Sixth Time's the Charm
by Schattengestalt
Summary: Five times Sherlock receives a gift he doesn't like and the one time he receives one that he loves. Johnlock.


**Author Notes: **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! =) I hope you all have a great time and enjoy this Christmas story. :)

**Sixth Time's the Charm**

1.

"Oh, look at you, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson cooed as she ushered him in front of the mirror in her hallway. "Mrs. Turner convinced me to use this new-fashioned shade of blue and I tell you I had my doubts about it but it suits you perfectly. I need to thank Mrs. Turner. Maybe I should bake some chocolate biscuits for her, what do you think?"

Sherlock blinked at his image in the mirror and nodded. "Sounds great."

Obviously it had been the right response judging from the beaming smile Mrs. Hudson sent his way. A real feat considering that Sherlock had stopped listening to the rambling of his landlady when she had referred to indigo as a _new-fashioned _shade of blue. Usually he would have corrected Mrs. Hudson but right now he was too focused on keeping still to get into a debate with his landlady.

"The colour brings out your eyes. I am sure John will notice as well."

Sherlock only rolled his eyes when Mrs. Hudson winked at him. "John never notices when one of his girlfriends has changed something about her appearance radically. I doubt that he will notice that my scarf is a different shade of blue."

Mrs. Hudson only smiled knowingly at him like she was aware of something that Sherlock hadn't noticed - which was a preposterous notion in and of itself.

"John looks at you differently than he looks at all these women he has brought here besides," Mrs. Hudson added with a wink when Sherlock opened his mouth to argue, "This scarf has been knitted by hand. Therefore it looks extremely different from the scarf you usually wear."

Sherlock wasn't so sure about that but then he also wasn't an expert in knitting techniques - it had never come up in one of his cases. Maybe he should read up on the topic. One never knew when a case with murderous grandmothers fell into his lap. He was so absorbed in his musings about a potential case - could someone be killed with a knitting needle - that he almost missed Mrs. Hudson's expectant look. Right, the scarf.

"Thank you for the early Christmas present."

The smile on his face felt more like a grimace as he suppressed the urge to scratch at his neck. Thankfully Mrs. Hudson didn't seem to notice as she returned his smile and patted his shoulder. "You're welcome, dear. I usually don't give gifts early but seeing as I will take the train to my sister tomorrow. The poor dear, you must know..."

Sherlock drowned out the rest of Mrs. Hudson's speech and instead focused on naming the elements of the periodic table. He made it to potassium before he was presented with a box of biscuits and ushered to the door of his landlady's flat.

"Don't it all the biscuits yourself, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson warned him and then shooed him towards the staircase. "Now show off your new scarf to your Doctor."

Sherlock didn't correct his landlady although John would certainly have taken offense at being referred to as _his _doctor. But even if Sherlock minded - which he didn't - his mind was on more important matters. Namely getting back up to the flat to finally get rid of the damned scarf. He barely remembered to put the box with the biscuits carefully on the table before he was tearing at the annoying piece of clothing.

"Sherlock? What did Mrs. Hudson want? Does she need help with... God, what happened to your neck?!"

Sherlock ignored John's panicked question as he dug his fingernails into the skin at his neck and scratched. It was pure bliss even if it hurt at the same time. He was positive that the skin on his neck and throat was covered in angry red spots and that scratching at it wouldn't do him any good in the long run but... it still felt amazing.

"Stop it!"

A warm hand grabbed his wrist and Sherlock couldn't help but shudder when gentle fingers touched the abused skin.

"Looks like an allergic reaction," John murmured to himself as he inspected the affected area.

Sherlock snorted and took a step away from his friend. While he didn't mind John touching him at all, he couldn't risk giving his feelings for his friend away. And Sherlock was certain that it wouldn't have taken him long to start blushing if John had kept up his gentle ministrations. His throat had always been... sensitive.

"Wool allergy," Sherlock nodded towards the scarf he had thrown to the floor, "Mrs. Hudson gave it to me as a Christmas gift but..."

"You can't wear it," John summarized and picked up the scarf. "You didn't tell her that you are allergic to wool."

It was more a statement than a question but Sherlock answered nonetheless. "It must have taken her hours to make the scarf and you told me last year to appreciate gifts so..."

Sherlock shrugged and John's eyes softened as he regarded Sherlock with a smile on his face. "I am sure Mrs. Hudson would have understood but it was certainly nice of you not to say anything. Tell you what," John nodded towards their armchairs, "You sit down there and I will check our first aid kit for something that will help with the itching."

For once Sherlock didn't argue with John and he heaved a sigh of relief when his friend came back with a tube of anti-histaminic salve. And when gentle hands spread the salve on his skin Mrs. Hudson's present didn't seem so bad anymore.

2.

"Sherlock, you got a parcel."

"Maybe, it's the fungi samples I ordered online," Sherlock called back without looking up from his experiment at the kitchen table. It would be the perfect timing for the samples to arrive considering that he was almost finished with his latest experiment and there were no new interesting cases in sight at the moment. It was hateful how even criminals went on a holiday around Christmas. Sherlock wasn't sure how he was supposed to survive the next week until the holiday. Hopefully someone at least thought of murdering their spouse in an intriguing way on Boxing day or he would be bored out of his mind. Hell, at this rate Sherlock would even be happy with the petty theft of the family heirlooms or something equally mundane.

"There is no sender on the parcel."

The words had barely registered in Sherlock's mind when he was already halfway towards the living-room where John was inspecting a harmless looking parcel. It was wrapped in brown paper with their address written on it in cursive letters. This was the first impression Sherlock got of the parcel before he tore it out of John's hands to inspect it more closely. It was small and flat. It didn't smell of anything suspicious and when he shook it...

"God Sherlock, this could be a bomb."

Sherlock ignored John's panicked protest and shook the parcel again for good measure just to hear his friend's agonized sigh.

"I am relatively certain that it's a box of chocolates."

Sceptical eyes met his but this time John didn't verbally question his deduction skills as he had done before. Obviously his friend didn't fancy betting against Sherlock and losing... again. He still owed Sherlock two bottles of whisky, a bottle of wine and three servings of fish n' chips after all.

"Who would send us chocolates?"

Sherlock shrugged as he tore upon the brown wrapping paper. "Maybe a former client and... Oh, that's nice."

Sherlock's mouth watered at the sight of the label: _Godiva Dark Chocolate collection - Classic edition. _Sherlock had always been a fan of this particular brand and whenever Mummy had taken them to London around Christmas he had begged for her to buy him some of these chocolates at _Harrods_.

A card flattered to the ground but Sherlock didn't pay it any mind as he opened the box and sighed happily at the sight of the collection of individually wrapped chocolates. Should he try one with 85% cacao percentage first or should he start with a slightly sweeter one? He had just made his decision and picked one of the chocolates to carefully unwrap it when it was slapped from his hand.

"What the... John!" Sherlock glared at his friend and made to retrieve the chocolate - thankfully it had still been wrapped - but John's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What?"

"Read the card!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John but accepted the Christmas card from him. It had a snowman with a creepy smile on the cover and Sherlock rolled his eyes at it before he opened the card. He could practically feel how his face fell as he read the merry message.

_Merry Christmas, Sherlock!_

_Enjoy the chocolates and share some with your pet... but don't eat too many at once. ;)_

_Kisses,_

_Jim from IT_

"Moriarty," Sherlock breathed and glanced from the card in his hand to the box of chocolates. It still looked as tempting as only minutes before. Certainly one piece couldn't...

"Sherlock!"

He ignored John's angry exclamation as he unwrapped one of the chocolates and put it into his mouth. The chocolate melted on his tongue and for a second the taste sent him back in time to one of the shopping trips with Mummy before an underlining taste destroyed the memory.

Sherlock spit the clump of partly melted chocolate into his hand and glared at it.

"Is it poisoned? God, Sherlock do we have to go to the hospital or..."

"Mercury," Sherlock sneered in distaste and marched towards the kitchen to wash his hands. He knew that John was right behind him even without looking up as he watched the chocolate swirl down the drain.

"How do you know it was mercury?"

The panic had mostly vanished from John's voice and Sherlock was thankful for it. The disappointment was bad enough in itself without having to deal with the worry of his best friend.

"I conducted an experiment once. Nevermind." Sherlock sighed quietly and turned around to give John a tight smile. "I assume that the wrapping paper of each chocolate is coated with mercury. Nice of Moriarty to warn us not to eat too many of them," Sherlock added bitterly, "Although how he expected us to eat even one of them when they taste like this is beyond me."

And they had always been his favourites, Sherlock didn't add but something must have shown on his face as a gentle smile turned John's lips upwards.

"Let's get rid of the chocolates then and afterwards we will go out."

"I am really not in the mood to look at uninspired decorations while trying not to get overrun by frantic Christmas shoppers." Sherlock took the box of chocolates and threw them into the bin that was usually reserved for his experiments. Moriarty really managed to ruin everything.

"Too bad, I wanted to stop by Harrods."

Sherlock's head jerked up at that and his eyes widened in wonder at the understanding in John's eyes.

"Alright, let's go."

No more words were exchanged as they both grabbed their coats but Sherlock was certain that he would get his favourite chocolates today. Ones that were worth the memory of the shopping trips of his childhood. And who better to share them with than with John?! The prospect of facing half-crazed Christmas shoppers didn't appear so daunting anymore all of a sudden.

3.

"Hey Holmes, wait!"

Sherlock didn't slow down his steps at Sally's call. Nothing expect a serial killer would convince him to stay any longer at the police station. And even then Sherlock would be hard pressed to help the detectives if it wasn't an extremely inventive killer. After the last couple of hours he truly had witnessed enough of the stupidity of the finest of Scotland Yard to last him until the new year. He might have to bleach his eyes and ears just to get rid of the memories of the incompetence of the police officers. Here he had always believed that stupidity wasn't contagious but obviously Anderson had infected everyone in the building. There wasn't any other explanation for everything that had happened here today.

Sherlock hit the button of the elevator and groaned when the display informed him that it was going up first. That meant an additional waiting period of one minute and nine seconds if people left and entered the elevator at an average pace. Great, that meant...

"Holmes!"

Sherlock sighed loudly as Sally's steps sounded behind him and then glared at John when his friend snickered. Fantastic, obviously no one was on his side anymore. For a second Sherlock entertained the idea of taking the staircase but then decided against it. He didn't fancy racing Sally downstairs. It would be humiliating... especially if he lost.

"What is it, Sergeant Donovan?" Sherlock directed his most arrogant look at Sally as he turned towards her. "Has another child got lost in the sweets section at huge department store while another child has wandered off at the local Christmas market?! Let me assure you that it isn't a serial kidnapper you are looking for in this case... just like it wasn't a serial kidnapper this morning."

To Sherlock's utter annoyance, Sally didn't look embarrassed in the least at his little speech but merely crossed her arms in front of her chest and sent him a bored look. "Would you have rather had an international kidnapping ring taking children from the streets of London and selling them to some perverts in other countries?"

Sherlock had already opened his mouth to reply when John beat him to it. "That's not what he is saying and you know it." The amusement had vanished from his friend's expression as he glared at Sally. "Don't try to make him look like a psychopath when you know exactly that he is simply annoyed at being called in for nothing. Other officers are pissed as well by the way."

His insides tingled with warmth at John's words. He tended to forget how much John's opinion of him mattered to him until his friend came to his defences like this. Not that Sherlock needed defending but it was still nice to have someone on his side for a change.

"That wasn't what I meant," Sally sighed and lowered her arms, "And that wasn't even why I came after you."

Sherlock frowned at her while John relaxed next to him.

"Then why...?"

"Merry Christmas!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the small present that Sally had retrieved from the inside of her coat pocket. "What's that?"

"A Christmas present, Grinch. You have to open it to know what's inside."

Sherlock debated to inform Sally that the Grinch had had a perfectly understandable reason to hate Christmas but decided that such an explanation would only hold them up longer.

"Thanks," he muttered to prevent John from poking him in the sides as he accepted the small present from Sally. For once he didn't try to deduce what was inside but simply tore the wrapping paper to get it over with.

"What's that?" Sherlock glared at the pink aberration that was revealed when the wrapping paper fell to the floor. It looked like some sort of hat... although more like a molten hat than anything else.

"Oh God!"

John's laughter made Sherlock focus on the smirking face of Sally and the amused grins that the other officers in the floor sent his way.

"I don't see what's so funny about... that _thing_?" God, but he didn't have the patience to deal with such nonsense after interrupting his experiment for a case that hadn't really been one in the first place.

"It's a hairnet," John managed to get out between bursts of laughter.

"A hairnet," Sherlock echoed even as he still didn't understand why this was supposed to be funny.

The picture Sally showed him on her phone a second later cleared that up for him. It must have been taken during a case in autumn judging from the state of the tree, Sherlock deduced even as he grinded his teeth at the picture. It showed him gesturing wildly in the middle of a misty field which wasn't so special but the state of his hair was. His curls were a complete mess. Sherlock still recalled how long it had taken him to untangle them afterwards. In the end he had even needed John's help to get out all the knots. And while the touch of John's gentle hands had been pleasant it hadn't completely made up for his troubles.

"You can wear it the next time you go outside when it's humid," Sally snickered at his expression of utter horror, "Although I must admit that it was rather entertaining to listen to your complaints."

"Right," Sherlock muttered as he clenched the hairnet in his left hand, "Because you had never trouble with frizzy hair in your whole life."

Instead of getting offended like Sherlock had planned, Sally only shrugged. "Can't say that I didn't but I never was such a drama queen about it."

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond - a scathing deduction already on the tip of his tongue - when a ping behind him announced the arrival of the elevator.

"Have a nice day," John called out to Sally while he drew Sherlock into the elevator at the same time.

John's hand on his arm was enough of a distraction to prevent Sherlock from getting into a fight with Sally until the doors had closed behind them. Only when they were alone did Sherlock turn towards his friend with a slight frown on his face.

"Why did you laugh?" Sherlock couldn't keep the hurt at his friend's amusement completely out of his voice. "You know that it wasn't funny at all and that I didn't only complain because my hair looked ridiculous but also because I knew that it would be rather painful and longsome to untangle my curls. Just because Sally doesn't care about her hair and everyone else has trimmed it down to barely above their scalp doesn't mean..."

"You're right, I am sorry."

Sherlock blinked in surprise as he took in John's words and the contrite look on his face.

"I shouldn't have laughed and I am sorry that I did." John took a step closer and Sherlock almost sighed in pure bliss when skilled fingers carded through his hair. "I know how much you love your hair... and I like it as well."

"John," Sherlock started as he met the earnest gaze of his friend. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say or if instead of words he should simply close the small distance between them and kiss John's upturned lips. His gaze flickered from John's eyes to his lips and back up but before Sherlock could make a decision the elevator arrived at the ground floor and the doors opened to let them out.

The spell was broken as John strode out into the entrance hall ahead of Sherlock but they still shared a private smile some time later when John put the hairnet on the head of a mannequin at a fancy boutique.

4.

"Ahem Sherlock, I have got something for you."

"Just put the coffee down somewhere. Thanks, Molly," Sherlock added as an afterthought without looking up from the microscope.

John would be proud of him. His friend kept on nagging him about being polite to people and while Sherlock usually didn't see why he should pretend around strangers, he could see the benefits of such behaviour when it came to the few people he considered his friends. Molly certainly fell into that category and besides... she had just brought him coffee. Not that Sherlock had asked her for the godly beverage but Molly had always been fond of coffee. It probably came with being a doctor... although John certainly preferred tea. Sherlock frowned at the bacterial culture but then shrugged it off. John's preferences were simply more English than Molly's and as long as both of them brought him hot drinks that contained caffeine, he wasn't going to complain.

Admittedly they were both useful in other ways as well. Without Molly, Sherlock wouldn't have got access to the lab at Bart's today for example and without John... No, he couldn't even imagine a life without his best friend. John was an essential part of him. Without his best friend Baker Street wouldn't be home but simply a place to store his experiments and crash after an exhausting case. Sherlock shook his head slightly at the disturbing thought but was about to focus back on the growth rate of the bacterial culture when he noticed Molly's presence behind him.

"You know how much I dislike it when you hover," Sherlock muttered without turning around but instead of moving away Molly only shifted behind him.

"As I said I have something for you."

"Yes," Sherlock replied slowly while he counted a colony of bacteria, "And I told you to put the coffee..."

"It's not coffee," Molly burst out behind him, "It's a gift. For Christmas."

Sherlock's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. Both at Molly's statement and the nervous squeak at the end of it. And here he had assumed that she had got over her crush on him. Obviously he had been wrong.

Slowly Sherlock turned around on his chair to see what Molly had for him. The sooner they got this over with the sooner he could get back to his cultures.

"Here."

Molly almost hit him in the nose with the... travel mug. Sherlock blinked down at it. The mug was light blue which wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't also been decorated with cats striking various poses.

Cats!

Sherlock didn't even like cats. They were annoying and only paid attention to you when they were hungry or got their paws stuck in something. Dogs on the other hand... dogs were awesome. And Redbeard had been the absolute best of them all. A smile tugged at Sherlock's lips and he almost got lost in his memory of Redbeard when Molly's voice reminded him of where he was.

"I thought it would be useful," she babbled nervously while she fidgeted with the hem of her lab coat, "You always drink coffee and you could just bring it with you wherever you go. It's a thermo mug so it won't get cold so fast. Oh and it's good for the environment to use this mugs and... You said you liked Toby."

Toby?

It took Sherlock a few minutes to connect the name to Molly's tabby cat. He had met the cat once and he might have said something to the affect that he liked him but Sherlock couldn't remember it anymore. But if he had known back then that his words would make him the owner of a travel mug that was decorated with cats, he would have kept his mouth shut. Aside from that, what was he supposed to do with a travel mug? He couldn't very well chase after criminals with a mug in his hands and if he questioned witnesses while sipping coffee from this mug... No, there were less painful ways to destroy his reputation.

"Do... do you like it?"

Sherlock glanced up at Molly who was still holding the mug out to him and contemplated an honest answer but thought better of it when he imagined the disappointed expression on John's face.

"It's great," Sherlock plastered a pleasant smile on his face as he accepted the mug from Molly, "Thank you, Molly."

A crimson blush rose in Molly's cheeks as she beamed at Sherlock and then shuffled nervously from one foot to the other again.

"I will be on my way then. I have taken some days off to visit with my family and well... Merry Christmas, Sherlock."

"Merry Christmas, Molly." This time his smile was earnest when he got up from his chair and leaned forward to press a kiss to Molly's cheek.

"Thank you." Wide brown eyes looked up at him in wonder and shock and for a second Sherlock feared that he had done something wrong before a brilliant smile lit up Molly's face. "I'm better off then. See you."

Sherlock could only stare after Molly as she vanished in the direction of the changing rooms. He would have to ask John later if there was a logical explanation for the change in her mood. Maybe, right after he had managed to pass the travel mug on to his best friend. John could take the mug to the surgery with him in the morning. Sherlock was almost positive that his friend wouldn't mind the cute kittens on the travel mug. Almost.

5.

"God, this was awful."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John's entry but didn't look up from the bubbling solution he was heating over the Bunsen burner. Judging by the tone of John's voice his friend would elaborate what he had found so awful about his outing without any prompting from Sherlock.

"I understand that people want to have everything ready for Christmas," John continued as he entered the kitchen, "But do they all have to bring their children with them? And if they do, can't they look after them? Three children collided with me and the parents always blame me. As if their children can't avoid running into an unmoving person... What's this?"

Sherlock had merely hummed noncommittally to John's rant but looked up at the unexpected question of his friend.

"It's an experiment. I am trying to determine the exact..."

"No, not that," John's finger came into view as he pointed at something at the other side of the kitchen table, "_This_!"

With a sigh - John wouldn't let him work in peace until he had humoured him - Sherlock looked up and frowned at the gift that was wrapped in scarlet wrapping paper. He couldn't remember placing it on the kitchen table but then he vaguely recalled picking something up downstairs and carrying it to their flat. Obviously though he had forgot all about boring Christmas presents the second he had finally been able to start his experiment.

"It must have been in the mail," Sherlock focused back on the violently bubbling solution, "Just open it. Either it's from a former client or Moriarty bought more chocolates for us."

Sherlock could practically hear John roll his eyes behind him even as his friend went to open the gift. Some seconds passed in silence only interrupted by the tearing sound of wrapping paper and then...

"Oh fucking hell!"

Sherlock was out of his chair and at John's side in a heartbeat at the disbelieving tone of his voice. Maybe this Christmas present was more interesting than he had first thought, maybe...

"Why do you make such a ruckus about a vibrator?"

"Because... because... who the fuck sends someone a vibrator?"

"Didn't you check the card?" Sherlock couldn't keep the teasing tone out of his voice completely as he took the ruby red vibrator from John to inspect it closely. It was still in its original package which didn't show any signs of having been opened. The description on the package promised a _spectacular orgasm _and _prostate stimulation of the finest_. It also came with a charging cable.

"It only says here: _I know you will enjoy your gift, TW_," John read the card to Sherlock. "Any idea who..."

"The Woman," Sherlock rolled his eyes and placed the vibrator back on the kitchen table, "Of course she would think that this would be a great gift." Disappointment coloured Sherlock's words as he regarded the vibrator with distaste. "If she had at least sent a whip or a paddle - that would have been useful - but this... And she gloats about knowing what people like."

"So you don't like... _this_?"

Sherlock barely suppressed a groan at John's question. He knew that tone of voice from his friend. It meant that he had smelled a chance to investigate about Sherlock's private life once more and he wouldn't give up until Sherlock had answered his questions or stormed from the room. God, but why could John start such conversations when they were sitting together over Chinese take-away but always when Sherlock had something better to do?!

"No, I don't."

So, that should be obvious enough even for John and...

"You know that it's fine."

This time Sherlock sighed quietly as he glanced longingly at his bubbling experiment and then back at John who was fidgeting nervously with his hands.

"Some people just don't enjoy sex and..."

"When did I ever say that I don't enjoy sex?" Truly Sherlock couldn't recall ever making such a statement.

"But," heat rose in John's cheeks as he gestured towards the vibrator, "You just said..."

"That I don't like vibrators," Sherlock finished the sentence for John, "Which doesn't imply that I don't like sex. I simply don't like sex toys and I am also not overly fond of prostate stimulation. I am also not a virgin," Sherlock added challengingly, "No matter what Mycroft or Ms. Adler implied."

God, but he was sick of people believing that he had never had sex simply because he wasn't going around hitting on everyone who so much as glanced in his direction. Just because sexual relations weren't his top priority didn't mean that he didn't enjoy it. His time was simply better spent conducting experiments and chasing criminals than propositioning potential lovers. Not to mention that Sherlock was only interested in one man right now and this man was violently gnawing on his lower lip right now.

"Sorry," John finally muttered to the kitchen table before he looked up and met Sherlock's gaze, "I shouldn't have made such assumptions. Shall I throw it away then?"

There was no question what _it _was and Sherlock only shrugged at the question. "I don't care. You can throw it away or keep it for yourself or..."

Sherlock blinked in surprise as the blush in John's cheeks intensified. Now, this was interesting. Sherlock had always assumed that his friend wasn't as boring in bed as his choice in girlfriends seemed to imply but he hadn't suspected that John would be into sex toys. Especially not into sex toys meant for penetration. If only he would also admit it now...

"If you don't mind I will keep it." There was a faint quiver in John's voice but when Sherlock met his gaze, John returned it without flinching.

Sherlock nodded his consent for his friend to take the vibrator while he searched John's face for any hidden clues at the same time. Had Sherlock just imagined the challenging look in his eyes or was John waiting for Sherlock to make a deduction? Was there even more to John's liking of vibrators or was he overanalyzing a simple preference? After all, a preference for anal penetration didn't necessarily equal an attraction to men. Maybe he could ask. It appeared to be the perfect topic to be broached right now.

"John," Sherlock started but was interrupted by a loud bang. Pieces of glass and sulphuric acid rained down on the kitchen table accompanied by John's cursing.

"Fuck Sherlock, what was in the beaker? I hope to God that it wasn't something contagious or so help me God..."

"It was just sulphuric acid. I wanted to estimate how long it would take until the beaker burst."

Thunder clouds darkened John's expression at that. "So, you tell me _this_," he gestured towards the mess on the kitchen table, "Was on purpose?"

Sherlock shrugged. When he thought about it, it hadn't been his best idea to conduct the experiment here but it was too late for remorse now.

"I will be upstairs and when I come back down," John pointed a finger at Sherlock, "This mess will be gone."

Sherlock gave a sharp nod and waited until he heard John move upstairs before he dashed to his notebook and wrote down the time. Usually, John took half an hour to 45 minutes for a relaxing wank - discounting the hurried ones in the shower - so it would be interesting to see how a sex toy would affect his routine.

Sherlock smirked at the empty place on the kitchen table where the vibrator had been and then went about cleaning up his mess. No need to destroy John's post-orgasm mood when he came back down again. Not when Sherlock was still intend to investigate the puzzle that was John's sexuality.

+1.

Sherlock sighed happily as he leaned back in his armchair with a glass of whisky by his side.

Christmas Eve had been much more enjoyable than he had anticipated. The complete absence of any annoying guests had certainly played a huge role in making this heinous tradition more bearable. There just was something about sharing pizza with John that brought a smile to Sherlock's face. Though the biscuits Mrs. Hudson had prepared for them in advance certainly hadn't hurt the experience either. And now they had the remaining evening to themselves as well without the suffocating obligation to do something Christmassy.

Sherlock took a sip of his drink and then frowned at the ceiling. John had hurried upstairs to his room about fifteen minutes ago without an explanation and slowly Sherlock was starting to wonder if his friend even planned on coming down again. Maybe he had wanted to turn in early tonight?

No, Sherlock dismissed the thought as soon as it had entered his mind. John wouldn't have poured himself a drink only to abandon it like this. Besides his friend was very particular about his bathroom routine in the evening, he wouldn't simply go to bed without at least brushing his teeth.

As if to prove his deductions right, steps sounded on the staircase a second later and Sherlock smiled into his drink. There, no need to worry about John leaving him alone. The only question that still needed to be answered was what his friend had done upstairs for so long. Sherlock glanced up when John stepped up next to his armchair and furrowed his brow when he noticed the folder that John was all but clutching to his chest. There also was a slight tremor in his left hand that was a dead give-away for John's nervousness. If the way John was gnawing at his lower lip and avoiding Sherlock's gaze weren't enough indications already.

"John," Sherlock started unsure of what was going on when the folder was thrust into his lap.

"For you."

Sherlock barely managed to prevent the folder from sliding to the floor as it was passed to him and raised an eyebrow at John. "I thought we agreed on not giving each other any presents this year."

Not that Sherlock didn't have a bottle of expensive scotch stored in his wardrobe regardless but even if John had also broken their agreement that still didn't explain why he was already giving Sherlock his gift on Christmas Eve instead of in the morning. And it also didn't explain why John was so nervous about this gift. Maybe...

"Just open it already!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John's impatience but decided to humour his friend for once. No need to get into an argument over a Christmas gift. A Christmas gift that turned out to be a single sheet of paper. Sherlock cocked his head to the side as he read over the lines of the contract and then glanced up at John with a puzzlement written all over his face.

"Why are you giving me a rental agreement, John? We have already signed one with Mrs. Hudson and this one is for 221b Baker Street as well."

"Yes but," John blindly groped for his drink and downed half of it in one large gulp, "The old one was limited to two years. This one is for a lifetime but only under one condition. You have to read the fine-print too."

Even more confused than before Sherlock concentrated on the fine-print on the lower part of the page. He had to squint at the small letters - and only hoped that John wouldn't bother him about getting his eyes checked again - but managed to read it in the end. It didn't do anything to diminish his confusion.

"John," Sherlock started slowly, "This contract states that the contract is only valid as long as we both live here together." It didn't make any sense. Why did John draw this contract up with Mrs. Hudson in the first place?! Certainly his friend didn't intend to spend his whole life living at Baker Street - as much as Sherlock would be in favour of this plan. But the contract implied that John intended to spend the rest of his life here... with Sherlock. It was bewildering. Some of his inner turmoil must have shown on his face as John sighed quietly but with a fond smile on his face.

"For a genius you are really slow today."

The glare Sherlock sent John's way would have killed lesser men but his friend only chuckled quietly and then straightened his shoulders as if ready to march into battle.

"Right, I guess I have to spell it out for you: I want to spend my life with you, Sherlock. I can't imagine a life without you in it anymore whether as my friend or more..."

"More?" Sherlock echoed and pinched his leg just to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.

"Well, if you want... that's it. We can also remain friends if you don't... it doesn't matter... I just... Yikes!"

Sherlock chuckled quietly at John's surprised squeal as he grabbed his wrist and drew his friend into his arms. It ended with John half sprawled across Sherlock's lap and the glass of whisky tumbling to the ground but it was all worth it when Sherlock finally got to claim John's lips with his own.

A tense second of complete stillness followed the first contact of their lips before the world exploded in motion once more. Fingers tangled in his curls and Sherlock grabbed John's arse with both hands to keep him from falling down - and also because he had dreamed about doing this for a long time - as their kiss grew more passionate by the second.

"So, _more _it is then?" John whispered as he nipped at his lower lip and Sherlock only kissed him harder in reply. "Definitely _more_."

The contract got crumpled between their bodies as they both allowed their hidden desires to rise to the surface for the first time but it still remained Sherlock's favourite Christmas gift... followed closely by the blow job John gave him half an hour later. Merry Christmas, indeed!


End file.
